Castle for Rent

“They’ll be mighty suspicious but will probably drive on. Let’s give it a try.”

Trent nodded, then began to trace elaborate patterns in the air. After a time, thin suspended filaments of light appeared, taking their shape from the path of his fingers, forming a luminous grid that hung between the two brothers.

“Nope.” He lowered his arms and examined the pattern. He was not satisfied. “No. It won’t work. They have it anchored too firmly. They own the door, Inky. And they have the key. We’ll simply have to go in there and crash it down.”

“So be it. Are you ready?”

With one finger, Trent drew a diagonal slash across the pattern: the Stroke of Cancellation. The luminous design faded quickly. “As ready as one can be to die, which is what the upshot of this enterprise is likely to be. But first, let me deal with this fence business.”

Trent waved out a simple pattern, and the fence took it upon itself to give up a few of its chain links, to the accompaniment of much clinking and snapping of metal. A section of steel mesh split down the middle and fell away like a torn curtain.

“Neat,” Incarnadine admired.

They walked through the gap and into the woods, following a winding deer trail. About fifty yards along they encountered a clearing. In the lead, Trent stopped.

“One other thing I can do is give us some power. We’re going to need a shitload of it. I’m going to tune it so that you can channel it for any weapon or defense you see fit to use. So just wish, and it shall be done. Think you can handle that?”

Incarnadine smiled crookedly. “Two days ago I couldn’t even spell ‘magician.’ Now I are one.”

Trent stepped back and again began to make motions with his hands. At length the pattern became visible. It was wondrously complex, comprising red, blue, and green filaments. Arcane geometric figures decorated with elaborate filigree took shape within it, along with subtle curves describing arcs of mathematical precision and elegance.

A high-pitched, agonized yowl, as from a strange, half-human creature, came from somewhere ahead. Various grunting and snorting sounds arose from the woods.

“The natives are having nervous breakdowns,” Incarnadine muttered.

After a time, the filaments all turned bright blue, growing brighter as the seconds passed. Trent worked furiously, eyes caged on his work, his pale brow furrowed, fingers flying. Incarnadine took a step back as the pattern began to emit great waves of heat. The filaments turned blue-white and kept increasing in luminosity. Finally they became stark, blinding white, humming and crackling with energy.

Finished at last, Trent staggered back, flinching from the intense heat. “Gods!” He wiped the film of sweat from his forehead.

“I’m impressed,” Incarnadine said, studying the pattern. “That’s the hairiest-looking Power Grid I’ve ever seen. Three-dimensional, too! How the hell did you execute all those icosahedrons so quickly?”

“I nearly burned my damn face off doing it.” Trent exhaled slowly, straightening his clothes. “But she’ll hold for hours.” He glanced around. “It’s rained recently, so there isn’t much chance of a fire unless we overload it.”

The roar of some great, hellish beast rent the night.

“That is a distinct possibility,” Incarnadine said, looking off into the darkness.

“The only thing that will save us,” Trent said, “might save us, is that they will be dealing with the same unfavorable conditions, with respect to magic in general, as we. On the down side, they seemed to have learned very quickly.”

They left the anomaly blazing behind them like an overloaded Art Deco neon sign. The deer trail continued for another twenty yards, debouching into a hayfield that slanted up a low rise. They struck out into the open, crushing dry, brittle grass underfoot. Light came from over the rise, outlining the top of the hill.

“We should stick to cover,” Trent said.

“I suspect they know exactly where we are. Whoever or whatever we have to face, we might as well face them in the open.”

Weighty footsteps sounded just over the hill, along with a deep-throated growl. Then a ferocious saurian head appeared above the line of the hilltop, its fiery eyes sweeping the field below. The rest of the monster came into view as it topped the rise. At least twenty feet tall, it vaguely resembled a Tyrannosaurus rex, but differed chiefly by virtue of its fully prehensile, thickly muscled upper limbs, at the ends of which sprouted huge curving talons. Its eyes glowed like yellow beacons, and faint red flames shot from its mouth as it took each whistling breath.

“On second thought,” Incarnadine said.

They dashed off in opposite directions, both heading for woods on either side. The monster swung its gaze between them, pondering which quarry would make the tastiest morsel.

Then it made its decision and sprang forward to give chase.

Twenty-six Castle

They found more dead Bluefaces everywhere they went. Blue corpses littered the rooms and corridors, lay like butchered meat in the great halls and stairwells. They marveled at the slaughter, surprised to be feeling a tinge of pity. It seemed certain that none of the invaders were left alive. If any had survived, they were likely in hiding or had beat a hasty retreat back to their world.

“Serves ’em right, I guess,” Gene said.

“They didn’t have to kill all of them,” Linda said.

“Yeah, but who are ‘they’?”

“Good fighters,” Snowclaw commented.

Gene whistled. “Sure are. That means we’re in a worse situation than we were with these guys.”

“Same difference,” Linda said. “Both ways, we’re out of the castle.”

“I don’t know,” Gene said as he bent to inspect a charred and blackened corpse. “Incarnadine and his Guard might have been able to take the castle back from the Bluefaces. But against whoever or whatever did this, I’m a little pessimistic of their chances. Very pessimistic, actually.”

They walked on a little farther, coming into a large empty dining hall. A few more dismembered cadavers lay about.

“We’d better find a good aspect fast,” Gene said, keeping his voice low. “I think this is the King’s Hall. Isn’t it?”

“Looks like. That means we’re near the Guest areas,” Linda said. “But I don’t see a darn thing.”

“Let’s get the hell away from here and back into the wild regions.”

“But we need a stable aspect.”

“I think it’s boiling down to this — we’re going to have to pick the least objectionable wild aspect we can find and make the best of it. I really think the castle is a lost cause.”

Linda’s face fell. “I suppose you’re right.”

“But before we do that, we have to make sure that this carnageisn’t the work of the King and his Guardsmen.”

“Do you think there’s a chance?” Sheila asked.

“No. But we have to be absolutely positive before we exile ourselves again.”

“We might be better off back in the jungle,” Linda said. “If it weren’t for Snowy not being able to take the heat.”

“Linda’s right,” Snowclaw said. “Don’t put yourselves in danger on my account. Go back to that place. With Sheila along, you’ll be able to get back into the castle anytime you like. I’ll stay here and scout around.”

“I can’t take the heat, either,” Gene said. “Sorry, Snowclaw, that’s real noble of you, but I’m not going to leave you here alone.”

“Remember,” Snowclaw said, “I have a stable aspect to slip into anytime I want.”